


Echoes of Myself

by strangergrove



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst with a Happy Ending, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, More Billy/Billy than Billy/Steve, Slow Burn, Two Billy Hargroves, nobody knows what's going on, possibility of time travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangergrove/pseuds/strangergrove
Summary: Billy Hargrove finds an alternate version of himself stumbling around Hawkins, a version of himself that was never abandoned by his mother.Inspired by hoegrove'stime travel!AU
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington
Comments: 21
Kudos: 108





	Echoes of Myself

**Author's Note:**

> All the love to hoegrove for the amazing gifs I took inspiration from. I hope you enjoy it.

Billy was pretty sure when people said they could  _ feel _ something was different before some earth shattering event happened, well, they were completely full of shit. Nothing had felt different in the way the wind whipped at his hair through the Camaro's open windows. Nothing had felt different when Ratt pounded through the speakers. Nothing had felt different when he'd kissed Steve goodbye that night. So yeah, Billy was pretty sure nobody could feel something like this coming. 

The Camaro was idling at the only stop sign this far outta town, Billy digging around under his seat for the lighter he'd dropped half a mile back. His fingertips just barely caught the edge of it and he pulled it back from the abyss. The flame dancing in front of his face as he lit his cigarette must have blinded him  _ just enough _ . Because the road had been empty when he'd struck the wheel on the Zippo, then  _ occupied _ as soon as he flicked it shut. 

It wasn't the sudden appearance of the guy that scared him. He was used to people materializing out of thin air. Neil was especially good at it, even after all these years. No, what scared the absolute shit out of Billy was the guy's face. It was  _ his _ face,  _ Billy's _ face. For a moment his heart hammered in staccato beats, hard and sharp, and Billy wondered if it was going to give out on him. He stared at the person before him. Old visions echoed in his head. His face, his voice,  _ him _ speaking to him, saying things Billy didn't quite understand.  _ We want you to build.  _ An army in the darkness,  _ his _ army. 

The guy standing before him in the flood of the Camaro's headlights was definitely  _ him,  _ but he seemed somehow… Wrong. Too young. Not like the clone of himself he had found in that place. The kid was staring at him, arm raised to shield his eyes from the headlights. Billy wondered if he could see him, see that he  _ was _ him. His heart was pounding so hard against his ribs he was sure they were going to break any second now. He threw the Camaro in park with a shaky hand and sat there, trying to calm himself into some semblance of control. 

He stepped out onto the wet pavement, the Camaro's engine and radio snarling into the warm night air. This kid was nothing like the clone of himself he had seen in the Upside Down, or in his head, or wherever the fuck that had taken place.  _ That _ Billy had been hollowed out, vacant, like there was no substance to it, like he could have swiped his hand through it and it would have turned to mist.  _ This _ Billy was trembling, lost and confused. And alone. He looked up and his face paled. 

"The fuck did you do to my hair?" Billy had just noticed it. It was short and a little darker, and it made him look years younger. Or maybe he  _ was _ years younger. 

The kid didn't answer, just stared at him like Billy had just threatened to kill his whole family. Billy sighed, supposing he should cut the kid some slack. From the look of him, he'd never met an evil clone of himself in an alternate dimension that wanted him to take over the world by turning everyone into horrific goo monsters. When he put it that way, Billy thought maybe  _ he _ deserved to be cut some slack, too. 

"Get in," Billy finally said, hooking his thumb toward the Camaro. 

"No?" The sound of the guy's shoes scraping against the pavement told Billy he was backing away, probably ready to bolt. 

Billy heaved a sigh. "Look, I don't know where the fuck you came from, or why you have my face, but it's not safe out here. Get your ass in the car. Now." 

It was a very quiet drive, windows up, radio off, heads spinning. "Name's Billy." 

The younger boy looked up and cleared his throat. "Yeah… Me too." he studied Billy for a long time. "Are you… Me?"

Billy glanced over. "If anything, kid,  _ you're me _ . Just younger and with stupid hair."

The boy's hand shot to his hair and Billy laughed. "Well your hair looks like a fuckin' rat's nest, man," the kid retorted. 

Billy shrugged and licked his lips. "Whatever. Steve loves it, so… That's all that matters to me."

"Steve?" Young Billy was still staring at him, eyes wide, brows tilted curiously. 

Billy nodded, taking his foot off the gas as they approached Cherry Lane. "My boyfriend." There was no response. "Okay, you can't tell me there's any alternate whatever out there where I don't like dicks. Just… Wouldn't be me." He raised his brows and looked at his other self. The boy just nodded and looked out the window. His shoulders sagged, like the weight of everything was finally pulling him down. Billy didn't know what to do. When Max got like this, he would take her to the arcade to hang with her friends, or an empty parking lot to skateboard and practice new tricks. When Steve got like this, they would curl up on his sofa, watching movies and eating ice cream and just  _ being _ together. He still didn't know how to pull himself out of this state. No, he had Steve for that. 

"Hey," he said quietly, "Look, I know what Dad can be like. Trust me, I know how hard it is to hide it from him. But you don't have to worry about it with me, okay? Be as gay as you want around me if it makes you feel better. I don't care."

Billy parked the Camaro in the driveway and looked over. The kid was frozen, staring out the windshield toward the house. Billy glanced up to see Neil standing with his back toward the window. He couldn't let his father see this other version of himself. He had no idea how Neil would react. 

"Hey, we gotta sneak you inside, okay? Look, don't worry about Dad. I'll keep him away from you, okay?" Silence. "Hey, shitbird! Okay?" 

The boy jumped, finally breaking free of the trance he had fallen into. "What? We're going inside?" 

"Well yeah, I can't just have you wandering the streets with my face. And I told you, it's not safe. Now c'mon."

Night was well on its way to morning, but neither of the boys had yet tried to sleep. Billy, the older one, lay on a blanket on the floor, while the other sat on the bed, knees tucked up under his chin. 

"I don't get it," he said, breaking the silence for the first time in an hour. He looked down at his older self splayed out on the floor. "Why do you live with him? Where's Mom?" 

There was a sharp exhale, almost like a laugh, that came from the boy on the floor. "She took off a long time ago. Left me behind. With him." 

Young Billy shook his head. "No. She wouldn't do that."

Billy raised his eyebrows, his face twisting with anger. "No? Then where the fuck is she?" He huffed and rolled over, making it clear the conversation was over. He didn't like thinking about his mother. What happy memories he had left of her had been tainted by the Mind Flayer, sickly little after images imprinted on them, the kind he didn't know how to get rid of, wasn't sure he  _ could _ get rid of. And now here was this other him, head clearly full of love and light and blonde hair, blue eyes, a radiant smile. Head full of things Billy had spent his life clinging desperately to, wondering why it was he didn't deserve them. 

Neither of them slept, not really. The younger Billy, the  _ happier _ Billy, fell into fits of restless sleep, images of strange, violent skies and  _ wrongness _ plaguing him. The other Billy, the one who had lived and died and lived  _ again _ , watched over his younger self. He felt like he'd taken in a stray and was sure it would run away as soon as he turned his back, and he couldn't bear the thought of finding out down the road that something had happened to it. 

The boy was shivering, his body curled up against the cool morning air. Billy heaved a sigh and fetched the blanket that had been kicked to the floor some hours ago. He draped it over the kid, who immediately relaxed, almost melting into the bed. 

Of course he wondered where the kid came from, how he had jumped timelines or worlds or whatever. But it was mostly because he worried about getting the kid  _ back _ , because he wasn't safe. Not in Hawkins. Not with the Upside Down bullshit. Not with Neil. 

There was a sharp wrap on the door, startling Billy, but not yet waking the other from what barely qualified as sleep. "I thought I told you to have the house cleaned  _ before _ you left. I'm  _ not _ subjecting our guests to  _ this." _

Billy didn't understand what the big deal was. A couple of coworkers coming over for dinner didn't require a deep clean of a house they'd only been living in for a few months. "I forgot, okay? I'll do it after I get back." 

He could feel his father's heavy sigh on the other side of the door, could sense Neil clenching and relaxing his fists. Billy glanced back at the boy in his bed, who was awake now, wide, startled eyes glued to Billy's bedroom door. They had about ten seconds before the doorway was filled with Neil's silhouette instead of a closed door. 

Billy swallowed his pride, nearly choking on it on the way down. "I'm sorry. I'll have everything cleaned before they get here. I swear.  _ I'm sorry, Sir."  _ The words clawed their way up reluctantly, leaving a coppery tang in Billy's mouth that made him uncomfortable. 

Five… He held his breath. Four… Billy glanced back at his younger self again. Three… The boy shook his head, just once, terrified. Two… Billy quietly braced himself against the door. One… 

"You better." Neil's footsteps were heavy as they moved away from the door, like he was making a show of the fact that he was giving Billy one more chance. 

"I'm so sorry," came a shaky voice from the bed. "I'm so sorry mom left you with  _ him."  _

It was only a heartbeat. That's how long Billy stood frozen by the door. Just a single heartbeat. But it seemed to stretch on for eternities, dragging Billy along behind it. He'd finally gotten the apology he had dreamt about countless nights, hiding under his blankets, trying not to cry. He'd finally gotten it after all these years. But it shouldn't have been from himself. 

"Look," Billy said, trying hard to swallow down every creeping memory he had of his mother. "I gotta drive Max to school."

Young Billy looked up, excited. "You have a brother?" 

"What? No." He stuck a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and fished around for his lighter. "Max is my little sister. Er, step sister. Dad got remarried a few years after Mom left…" Billy lit his smoke and took a long drag, steadying himself. "Max is cool, though. Tough. Smart. Total shitbird."

After first laying eyes on the kid and up until that moment, the ground beneath Billy's feet had felt unstable, like it was sure to collapse in upon itself and swallow him whole. He'd felt it off and on since the Mind Flayer had worn him like a suit, but it always passed. It was finally settling again, but Billy knew the foundation was bad, knew he'd never  _ quite _ feel safe again, not really. 

The door suddenly opened and Max barged in, fiery hair pulled back in French braids. "Billy we're gonna- What the fuck did you do to your hair?" 

Billy spun on his heel to find Max staring at the other Billy, who was staring back, wide eyes and silent mouth. "Y'know," Billy said, smirking and blowing smoke at her, "I could have been naked."

Billy had never seen someone look so appalled in his life. "First, you're disgusting. Second, who the Hell is that? There are  _ two _ of you kow? What the fuck, Billy?" 

"Jesus,  _ Maxine,  _ where'd you get that filthy mouth?" He grinned at her and, slowly, she grinned back. They weren't quite used to this yet, being  _ friends _ . "I, uh, picked up a stray last night. Not even trying to wrap my head around how he got here. Just trying to make it through the day." Billy sighed, "I'll take him to Hop's tonight, see what they think."

Max nodded, watching her brother closely. "So… You're just gonna hang out here together until Hop gets off work?" 

Billy shrugged, "Got a better idea?" 

Max pretended to think hard about it, her face twisting up in concentration. "Oh, I don't know… Go see Hop  _ now?"  _

Smoke poured lazily from Billy's mouth as he chuckled. But his laugh sounded wrong, sickly. It was dark, oozing a deep indigo at the edges, like midnight skies that had cast away all their stars. Empty. "It's not every day you get to hang out with yourself, see what you could have been like if only you'd had one parent who wasn't shit." 

Silence. 

Young Billy, who felt like he had been dropped off at a distant relative's house and not told if he'd ever be retrieved again, didn't know what to do with himself once Billy and Max left. He thought maybe he should sit still, not touch anything, and wait patiently until Billy came back. He also thought  _ fuck that _ because that sounded painfully boring, and Billy didn't like boring, regardless of what timeline he was from. 

He started small, poking around at the clutter on Billy's makeshift tables. The guy was a mess, not that young Billy  _ wasn't _ , but still. There were empty beer cans on the window sill, a plate being used as an ashtray, clothes  _ everywhere _ . Then he started opening drawers. On top were a few Penthouse mags, but beneath those were books and journals. Books with little notes scribbled in the margins. Journals retelling vivid dreams of horrific monsters, of kidnapping people, of  _ hurting _ people. Journals filled with poetry, the kind that was too, well,  _ poetic _ to understand, but it made the reader feel exactly what the poet had wanted them to feel, without really knowing why. Reading it, all he felt was sorrow and anguish, regret, fear. Billy, the poet, the dreamer, was  _ hurting _ . 

The curiosity tour eventually took young Billy outside of the bedroom. The house was neat, too neat, like it wasn't actually being lived in. He wondered if Billy and Max were even allowed to truly  _ live _ here. He didn't really understand what Neil had been freaking out about. There were a couple dishes in the sink, which he took care of in only a few minutes. The bathroom had some discarded clothes on the floor, a shirt and pair of jeans that no doubt belonged to Billy and were quickly returned to his bedroom. There was workout equipment in the living room. Billy guessed  _ this _ was the biggest thing. Unfortunately, he had no idea where to move it, forget the fact that it was way too heavy for him to move by himself. 

When Billy came home from dropping Max off at school, he found his other doing curls in the living room. "Not too shabby, squirt."

" _ Squirt? Really?"  _

Billy shrugged, laughing to himself. "You're little, okay? It's adorable."

Young Billy scrunched up his face. "Fuck you, man." He added under his breath, "I'm not little." Billy simply shrugged. "So… Think your dad wanted this stuff outta here? You know, before this special dinner or whatever."

Billy didn't miss the use of  _ your father _ instead of  _ our father _ or even  _ Dad _ . Because Neil hadn't been this kid's father for years, had he? But their mother hadn't been a mother to Billy in even longer, yet he still called her  _ Mom.  _

"Yeah," Billy said quietly, after what had probably been a little too long. "Yeah, let's take it to the garage."

"Uh, thanks," Billy said an hour later, "for helping me clean up. They were sitting at the kitchen table, young Billy fiddling with the placemats, older Billy picking at the edge of the table nervously. "Tell me about her. About Mom."

The kid smoothed out the placemat before him repeatedly, like it would guide him through what was sure to be a turbulent conversation. "What do you want to know?" 

"Little things… Details. Like…" Billy chewed his lip. "Like what song she hums to herself when she makes pancakes." It was right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was. 

Young Billy smiled. "Seven Wonders. Fleetwood." Yes, that was the one. 

"What wrist does she wear that little shell bracelet on?" He used to fiddle with it all the time. "Y'know, the one she got when at that weird little shop in San Diego. The one with the-" 

"The pink doors?" He laughed. "Um… The right one? Yeah, the right." Billy nodded. That seemed right. 

They kept at it for almost two hours. There were so many little details Billy had forgotten about his mother, so many memories with hazy parts that he knew were wrong. The fog over his memories, whether from years of burying them deep down or the blur of tears across them or the after images left by the Mind Flayer, finally started to clear. He could see her again, her wavy blonde hair as it blew in the beach breeze, the way her smile lit her entire face, the starlight burning behind her bright eyes. He could see her again as she had been when she was still his mother, when she still wanted him. 

"Do you hate her?" 

Billy looked up, startled. "What? No, of course not. I just… I'll always love her, but…" He didn't know how to put it in words. "She failed me. She chose to stop being my mother. Maybe I should hate her. But she was always this ray of hope, this possibility of escape. I always believed, deep down, that she would come back for me. One day." He looked up, stared into those ocean blue eyes that looked just like his. "I'm glad that, somewhere out there, she made the right choice. She saved you."

Billy, the saved one, bit his lip. "Is that what Steve is now? Hope?" He laughed nervously when Billy shot him an odd look. "I found a Polaroid of him, well I'm guessing it was him, under your pillow. It looked worn, like… Like you hold it very night."

It would have been impossible to describe the precise shade of pink that spread across Billy's face as he turned away. "Shut up. I don't- He's- I see him all the time. I don't need to stare at his picture every night before I go to bed." 

The kid shrugged. "Hey, I don't blame you. He's really cute." His eyes grew wide. "Oh. Oh-ho! I get it now. Doin' a little bit o'..." He mimed jacking off and wiggled his eyebrows at Billy. 

"Jesus. Fucking. Christ."

Billy didn't want the kid to meet Steve. He fought it for an hour. Fought the puppy dog eyes. Fought the pleading. Fought the guilt trips. Fought the  _ he's my boyfriend too, I deserve to meet him.  _ But what he finally caved to was the  _ I've never had a boyfriend _ . That was it. 

"Stop doing that with your face." Billy had just thrown the Camaro into park in front of the Family Video. His sunglasses were slid to the end of his nose and he was giving the kids a serious look. 

"What, smiling?" His smile was a little too wide, his eyes glowing a little too brightly with excitement. 

"Yes. It's unsightly. I don't like it."

When they pushed open the front doors, it took Robin half a second to process what she was seeing. "Oh God, no," she groaned.

"Nice to see you, too, Robs. Where's my boy?" 

Robin pointed at Billy's tag-along. "You're not gonna explain that?" 

"No. If you ignore him sometimes he goes away." Billy smiled and threw a look over his shoulder. He got a scowl for his efforts. 

"Dingus! Your archnemeses are here!" 

Steve poked his head out of the back room. "Pretty sure it's 'nemesi' Robin." He paused. "And plural? What-" His eyes followed Robin's gesture. "I… What am I looking at?" 

Billy sighed. "He wanted to meet you."

"Okay… But who  _ is _ he?" He stared at the short-haired Billy, utterly bewildered. 

"I'm Billy," he said, jumping forward and hugging Steve with a little too much zest. A brilliant pink started to bloom across his cheeks. Steve stood frozen for a moment, startled, before wrapping his arms around the kid. "Billy's told me so much about you!" They parted. 

Billy glowered at them, grumbling, "I'm suddenly regretting mentioning him at all." He hooked a finger in Steve's belt loop and tugged him back. He wrapped an arm possessively around Steve's shoulders. 

"Is he the…" Steve trailed off, pointing at the ground. 

Billy knew he was referring to the clone from the Upside Down. He shook his head quickly. "No, he's… From a different timeline I guess? One where my mom didn't leave me behind." 

Steve frowned. "Why is he younger?" 

"I don't know, Steve! I don't even know how he got here, let alone how this shit works." 

Steve nodded slowly. "We need to talk to Hopper."

"Can't we just, I don't know, hang out for a bit?" It was almost cute how excited the younger Billy was to spend time with Steve. Almost. But Billy wasn't particularly keen on sharing his boyfriend, especially not with this kid, this well-adjusted, friendly, happy version of himself. A version Steve would surely like better once he got to know him. 

"I mean… I guess? What's another couple hours, right?" 

"You know," Billy said, "on second thought… You're right. Maybe we should just go see Hop now."

Steve grinned and rolled his eyes. "Calm down there, Tiger. You afraid he's gonna kidnap me or somethin'?" 

"Or something," Billy grumbled. 

Robin leaned forward across the counter, dropping her voice so only the boys could hear. "I'll cover for you, Dingus. Go have fun with your boyfriends." She gave Billy a wink, to which he replied with a very enthusiastic middle finger before stomping out of the store. 

Billy expected the drive to Steve's house to be quiet, awkward, but it was filled with warm sunshine and laughter and Steve twisted around in his seat to look at the radiant, upgraded version of Billy in the backseat. They talked, just the two of them, the entire way back to Steve's place. Billy drove, enveloped in his own silence and insecurities and worries that this,  _ this,  _ would finally be the undoing of their relationship. Himself. 

When the Camaro pulled up to the house, Steve and his new friend bounded for the front door, their laughter still ringing in Billy's ears. He sat, white-knuckling the steering wheel, eyes burning behind his dark aviators, heart beating out an unfamiliar rhythm. He fumbled in the breast pocket of his denim jacket for his smokes, pulling one out with a shaky hand and sticking it between his lips. He flipped the top of his Zippo and struck the wheel. Sparks. He struck it again. Sparks. 

"C'mon you fucking piece of shit!" He threw open his car door, stumbled out, and chucked his lighter as far as he could. 

His world shifted beneath him, unstable, collapsing. He felt unmoored. Everything was drifting away, darkness rolling in. Black vines. Ash. Cold. So cold.  _ Him.  _

Billy blinked. He blinked again. The warm sun was on his face, his feet sturdy on the ground, green grass, birds chirping. There were arms around his waist, Steve's arms. Billy blinked once more, just to be sure. 

"What's wrong?" Steve asked. His voice was soft, warm. "Babe?" Billy took in a shaky breath and shook his head. Steve gently turned him around, caressing his face and staring into those deep ocean eyes. "You're  _ here _ , Billy. You're  _ home."  _

Billy buried his face in Steve's neck. He could always tell when the Upside Down started creeping back into Billy's head. He always pulled him back. It had started after Billy was released from the hospital, body weak and marred with scars, mind utterly in pieces, world shifting constantly between the Upside Down and his own. Steve had come over to pick up Max for a trip to the arcade. He found Billy huddled up in a corner, completely incoherent. Billy could never really remember anything from that time, right after he'd come back. It was all just a haze. But he remembered Steve, remembered his hesitant touch, his voice so soothing, the fear and concern brimming over in his eyes. It grew from there, whatever it was that had sprouted between them that day, and everything from before Starcourt fell away.

"Billy, what's going on with you? Is everything okay?" There was no reply. Steve sighed, pulling out his own lighter and lighting the cigarette still hanging out of Billy's mouth. The cherry flared instantly and Billy took a long drag. 

"So you like him, huh?" he huffed, smoke billowing from his mouth and nose. 

Steve gave him a funny look. "Well yeah, 'course I do. He's you, babe."

Billy nodded, taking another long drag. "Just nicer." Steve's brows furrowed. "Optimistic." Steve frowned. "Just… More likeable overall." The frown deepened. 

"Is that what this is about? Are you afraid he's going to, what, steal me away from you?" 

Billy gave him a look like it was obvious that was exactly what was going to happen. 

"Yeah, no. He feels like your little brother to me, Billy. Sure he's not nearly so rough around the edges, but that's what makes you  _ you _ . You're the strongest person I know, Billy. The bravest. The most insane. You gave up  _ everything _ for a bunch of people you didn't know, and a bunch you didn't like. I will  _ never _ love anyone the way I love you. Got it?"

Billy smiled and it was like the first break in the clouds after a heavy storm, when the sunlight comes down in radiant shafts and the clouds are illuminated in gold. He slinked his arm around Steve's waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He didn't say anything, just pressed himself into Steve's side and guided him back to the house. Young Billy was standing in the doorway, watching warily. 

They congregated in the kitchen, where Steve offered to make Billy, and Billy, something to eat. Steve started whipping up some grilled cheese while young Billy began telling them the story of his life. Steve's Billy sat on the counter next to the stove and began fiddling with the hand towel hanging from the oven door. The other Billy leaned back against the counter across from them, talking excitedly. 

His family split when he was ten, his mother running away from Neil and taking little Billy with her. She wanted to live somewhere that wouldn't remind her of Neil or California or the life she used to think was going to be perfect. They settled in a little town in Minnesota. It was beautiful and the people were nice and Neil would never think to come out there. 

Except he did, in Billy's timeline, he came out to Indiana, which was only seven or so hours from Minnesota. Only seven or so… Had  _ his _ mom moved out to Minnesota after leaving, too? Had she been  _ that _ close these last couple years? Billy's face must have shown what he was thinking, because Steve frowned and placed his hand on Billy's knee, giving it a small squeeze. Billy put his hand on top of Steve's, lacing their fingers together. 

Billy tried to listen, tried not to zone out and let the world flood into him. He watched the boy talking, watched the way his face lit up, the way his eyes gleamed and his smile grew and everything seemed to bend in to listen to him. He'd always known he'd been charming, had been using it to his advantage since he could remember, but this kid… It wasn't charm, it wasn't a façade. Life poured from him in rivulets of gold, liquid sunshine and love and happiness. This could have been Billy. One choice could have molded him into an entirely different person, and it wasn't even his choice to make. 

The thing was, though, sometimes Billy did feel like that, all dripping golden light. With Steve. Because Steve's love was overwhelming. It left marks all over Billy, blush and blue and tender in the most achingly beautiful ways. They were the kind of marks Billy could never quite locate, but he could feel them, just under his skin, just beneath his skull. 

Little things would make them ache. The way the sun lights up Steve's hair a million different shades in the morning, when they're laying in bed, just existing together. The way Steve's eyes fall out of focus when he gets confused, and the way they shift back when he understands again. The delicate dip of Steve's venus dimples under Billy's fingers. The gentle crooning moan he pulls from Steve every time they make love. The blush of his cheeks. His pale thighs in Billy's shorts. The precise curve of his smile when Billy tells Steve he loves him. There were countless moments, tiny little snippets of time, that made Steve's love ache inside Billy's chest. And when it happened, the smallest of cracks would mar his hardened exterior, and the most radiant light would pour out. The difference between Steve's Billy and the other was that the younger Billy never built those walls, never closed himself off, and everyone could see the ebb of life just beneath his skin. But Steve's Billy  _ had _ built those walls, and he'd built them so damn thick it was a wonder Steve was ever able to find his way around them. 

The smallest, most delicate smile traipsed across Billy's face. He was an idiot. Maybe the rest of the world still saw Billy as an asshole, nothing more than California trash who thought he was better than everyone else, but Steve saw him the way he saw this other Billy. Steve saw the intricate veins of love and kindness that spanned the otherwise barren walls Billy had built to shelter himself. He had seen them and traced them with his immaculate fingers, pulling Billy's attention away from the fortress he had imprisoned himself inside, and toward the beauty inside himself. So maybe he wasn't this young, effervescent version of himself, but someone a lot like him was buried deep inside Billy, just waiting for Steve to calm the tides. 

Billy looked up to find the others staring at him, small smiles on their faces. "What?" he asked. 

"Stop doing that with your face," his other self said. 

"What?" Billy said again, confused. 

"Smiling. It's unsightly. I don't like it." He said it in the same way Billy had said it to him. 

"Oh, fuck you, ya little shitbird," Billy said, chuckling. 

The kid grinned wide. "But seriously. Stop. You look creepy."

Steve rolled his eyes and shoved a plate of grilled cheese at each of them. "How 'bout you both shut up and eat?" 

Billy set down the plate and grabbed a fistful of Steve's shirt instead, pulling Steve between his legs and planting a kiss on his soft lips. Hands made their way down Billy's back, gentle and slow, leaving trails of shivers across his skin. Billy could have lived in that moment forever, basking in the glow of Steve's inexplicable love for him. But the phone rang then, and Steve pulled away to go answer it. 

Young Billy looked up, gnawing on his lip. "Are we… Okay? You seemed pretty pissed at the video store. Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped my-" 

Billy waved his hand. "Nah, man. We're good. I, uh… I can be a bit of a jealous asshole when it comes to Stevie." He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. "I'm sorry. Really. You're a good kid."

Young Billy pushed off the counter, scandalized. "Kid?!" 

He rushed forward and tugged Billy from his perch atop the counter. They tousled, Billy constantly overpowering the younger boy, the younger Billy constantly out maneuvering his older counterpart. They were on the kitchen floor Billy trying to pin the kid to the ground, but the boy kept twisting free by doing some bizarre move that Billy could never quite catch. 

"What the fuck?" Steve yelled the instant he reentered the room. "I leave you two alone for one minute!" They both looked up at Steve, stupid huge grins on their faces. "Oh my god. I shouldn't even be surprised." Steve made a face. " _ I'm Billy. I'm too tough to talk about my feelings. I'm just gonna try to kick my own ass instead. _ "

"I do  _ not _ sound like that, babe." 

"You  _ do _ . Just hug and make up. Idiots."

Billy rolled his eyes, laughing, and stood up, holding out a hand. "Not half bad,  _ kid _ ." He pulled the other boy to his feet. 

"You weren't too shit yourself,  _ old man _ ."

They ate, laughing and telling stories, sharing knowing glances between each other. Steve was right. This kid felt like he could have been Billy's little brother,  _ could be _ his little brother. Hopper was going to be done with his shift in a few hours, and Billy had no idea how things were going to go. Maybe they'd figure out the kid got there. Maybe they wouldn't. But for the next few hours they were going to appreciate the weird little family they had somehow cobbled together in the last twenty-four hours. 

Steve stopped feeling the creeping loneliness he always felt at home, that sense of abandonment that set it every time Billy left for work or home. Billy stopped feeling the ground crumbling beneath his feet, like at any moment he would sink into the abyss. And the kid, well, he didn't feel so scared and alone.

The drive to Hopper's cabin was a lot quieter. The air vibrated with their nerves, putting all of them on edge. Just a few minutes now. Billy was starting to feel a little ill, and by the looks of it, the others were too. They'd had a real family for one night. 

"Y'know," Steve said, "if… If we can't get you back home, for whatever reason…"

Billy glanced in the rearview mirror at the kid in the backseat. "You're always welcome to stay with us. We'd figure out something to do about, y'know, your whole face situation."

The kid chuckled. "My face situation?" 

"I told you, man. I can't have you wandering the streets with my face." Steve and the Billy with the face situation both rolled their eyes. There was a long silence before Billy spoke again. "You scared?" Billy almost missed the nod. It was short, just one. "We'll get you home. One way or another."

It took a few knocks before Hopper opened the door. He glanced between the two Billy Hargroves standing before him, and his face crumpled into utter despair. "For the love of God… I can't handle two of you. No. I quit." 


End file.
